


Fried

by starbuckmeggie



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Fun, Let's Get Physical, Like they do, PWP, Romance, Sex, The West Wing - Freeform, Transition, West Wing - Freeform, donna moss - Freeform, josh lyman - Freeform, just doing the nasty, nice scale, no talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-04-29 10:24:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14470605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbuckmeggie/pseuds/starbuckmeggie
Summary: "Who said anything about talking?""It was way up there in terms of, you know, niceness."





	1. Chapter 1

The door bangs shut and I can feel Donna smile against my mouth. I tighten my grip on her, pushing her farther into the living room. We trip a little over her jacket and she laughs, but all I do is kick it out of the way. She’s here—like a dream come true. As always, she knew what I needed before I knew it myself and turned up on my doorstep. 

I grab her scarf, still dangling from her shoulders, and yank it off, tossing it in what may be the direction of her coat, though at this point, I don’t really care. My lungs scream for air but the need to kiss her is stronger than the need to breathe.

My fingers slide across her lower back, and I only hesitate for a second longer before my hand drifts back down to her ass. I shouldn’t feel like I’m being too forward right now, considering she showed up on my doorstep for sex, but this is definitely uncharted territory for us. Even though I know what she’s here for, am I allowed to just grope her like this?

She moans softly, her arms tightening around me, and I can only assume that I’m on the right track. I clench my hands, bunching up her dress, and steer her further into my apartment until we hit the couch—literally—and I catch her from falling. She breaks away from me, breathing heavily, and I automatically go to her neck, sucking at her delicate skin. I can feel her nimble fingers working on the buttons on my shirt, pushing it off my shoulders only for it to get caught at my wrists.

I groan in irritation at the delay, but my hands reach for the bottom of her dress, tugging it up a little so that I can stroke the soft skin of her thighs. My lips travel down to her throat, then to her chest, my teeth scraping at her.

Without warning, she steps away from me completely, and I stare at her in shock. Her skin is flushed, her lips are swollen, and her eyes are so dark I can hardly see the aqua color that usually surrounds her pupils. Very casually she smiles at me and, as if she does this every night, fiddles with the clasp of her watch until it pops open. She pulls it off, looking at me from under her eyelashes, and I’m honestly not sure what she does with it after that. I step toward her and she smiles, stepping away almost at the same time. I tilt my head at her, sure I look like a confused puppy, but she just takes my hand, tugging it slightly. Without a word, she turns and releases me, sauntering slowly through my apartment, and I nearly fall over myself to catch up, putting my hand on her hip as we walk to my bedroom together.

I pause in the doorway, watching in fascination as she makes her way through the darkened room, turning on the bedside lamp. Her body is suddenly outlined in a dim, golden light, her face mostly hidden in shadows as she turns to me. She looks like she belongs here and it throws me for a loop for a few moments. She cocks her head to the side, her teeth gleaming in the low light, and I’m in front of her in an instant, our arms wrapping around each other as our mouths meet again.

She shoves at my shoulder and I collapse, bouncing a little as I land on the edge of the bed. All I can do is stare up at her, my mouth hanging open slightly. She smiles a little, grabbing at my left arm, pulling open the cuff, then repeating the process on the right. I wait for her to say something, but she remains silent. Maybe she was serious about that not talking thing.

I don’t know how I feel about that.

I pull off my shirt and toss it across the room, my breath catching in my throat as she climbs onto my lap, straddling my thighs. She presses her lips to mine again, though this time she keeps it slow. I grab onto her hips, pulling her closer to me, and we both gasp a little at the contact. Her hands rub my shoulders softly, her touch soothing even as it ignites me. I feel her fingers drift down my chest, tracing indiscernible patterns. I release one of her hips so I can slide my hand under her dress, stroking her thigh more carefully than I would expect from myself at this point.

She tugs at my undershirt, pulling it out of my pants, and I pull away only long enough for her to yank it over my head, returning to her lips as quickly as possible. I shiver in delight as her nails scrape over my skin. She shifts slightly and I feel her hands at my belt buckle, my hips jerking in response. She works it loose, the button and zipper on my suit pants following shortly thereafter. I groan, and she smiles into our kiss, her hand maneuvering under the waistband of my boxer shorts.

My entire body shudders and I moan—loudly—pulling my mouth from hers. Her fingers run up and down me, and I thrust toward her, eager for more, my body betraying my mind’s need to try to take it slow. Donna seems to have an entirely different agenda. She breathes heavily as she watches me, her movements rhythmic and hypnotic and the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. I swallow heavily, shuddering again. She bites her lip, somehow managing to keep her touch delicate and firm. How that can be, I’ll never know, but she does it, applying just the right amount of pressure to make me hard as a rock but to keep me from coming immediately.

I drop all pretense and shove both of my hands under her dress, moving immediately to her ass. I dip my fingers under edge of her panties, stroking her skin roughly, moving in time with her hand. I pull her closer, stupidly thinking it’ll slow her down and give me the upper hand, but all it does is increase the friction, and now I can feel the incredible heat coming off of her. 

She stands suddenly, and I gape at her, stunned by the loss of her body against mine. She swallows heavily but otherwise looks unfazed. “Take off your pants,” she tells me, her voice quiet and rough.

“What?” I ask dumbly, unable to think of anything else.

“Take off your pants,” she repeats, standing just out of my reach. Eager to get her back to me, I shift my hips and shove my pants down my legs, pausing only to kick off my shoes and socks, aware that I look goofy and overeager in the process. Once done, I look at her expectantly. “Boxers, too.”

My heart actually starts to pound at the request…demand…whichever. I push those down my legs, too, though a bit more slowly, and I avoid looking at her as I do it. For whatever reason, I feel vulnerable like this, and a little stupid, and naked in a way that doesn’t have everything to do with my clothing being gone. I shift uncomfortably as I wait for her to say something, to do something, and my head jerks up in surprise when I notice her reaching around me. She grabs a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor in front of my feet, and my eyes grow wide as lowers herself to her knees.

“Oh, God—Donna—no, you—uh, oh God, um—you don’t have to—” She stares up at me, her eyes still dark, her expression inscrutable, and I grit my teeth as her hands reach out to me, one wrapping around my erection as the other strokes slowly over the tip. “ _Shit!_ ”

“You don’t want me to?” she asks softly, her hands moving against me gently. I close my eyes for a few seconds, gripping my bedspread so hard my knuckles hurt.

I take a few breaths, shaky at first, until I can make myself breathe deeper, and force my eyes open. “You…” I try to say, my voice weak and unsteady. “You don’t…ha-have to…”

She smiles at me—not a full on grin, but wide enough to almost make me worry. “I know.” With that, she leans forward, her tongue running up the underside of my shaft.

“ _Fuck!_ Oh, my _God!_ ” I don’t even recognize the voice that comes out of me. I know that it’s loud, and I know there’s nothing I can do about it. All she’s done is run her tongue over me—this doesn’t bode well for my performance.

“Relax, Josh,” she whispers, her lips traveling down me while one of her hands works at the top. 

“Relax. Right,” I gasp, trying to anyway. It doesn’t seem likely, but maybe if I focus on trying to relax, it’ll take my mind off what she’s doing to me.

Uh-huh.

I dare to glance down at her, oddly distracted by the fact that she’s still fully dressed. How did that happen? How is any of this happening?

I reach out, not at all surprised to see my hand shaking, and run my fingers through her hair. I don’t want to do anything to make her think I’m trying to force her to stay, but dear lord, I never want her to stop.

Her hot breath hits my overly-sensitive skin, her hand sliding down to the base of me, tugging gently. I bite my lip, doing my best to keep myself under some semblance of control. It doesn’t work very well. It works even less when she looks up at me. It’s unbelievably erotic.

She slides a little closer and, with her eyes never leaving mine, slowly takes the tip of my erection into her mouth.

I literally see stars. There’s a definite ringing in my ears. My hips jerk up, out of my control, and I cry out, unable to form words. There are no words. There’s nothing I could say to express what it is that I’m experiencing in this moment.

For her part, she moves with me, not allowing my uncontrollable movements to slow her down or impede her, waiting until I can sit down almost properly to do more than she is right now.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to withstand it.

Her eyes on mine, she release me from her mouth, but everything in me tightens anyway as I watch her tongue move over the head of my penis. “You okay?” she asks breathlessly, barely coming up for air.

Surprising the both of us, I laugh. “Define ‘okay,’” I answer, somehow managing to be sarcastic while all of this is happening.

She smiles a little, pulling me back into her mouth. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks at me, the sensation all the more intense with the added visual, and her eyes roll back in her head. Her eyelids fall shut a moment later, and I’m almost relieved. The eye contact was amazing, but definitely bordering on too much. The relief is short-lived, though, as I watch her lean forward, and I feel more of myself disappear into her mouth, her hands taking care of the rest. She pauses for a moment, and I can feel her breathing heavily, before her head starts to bob very slowly up and down.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I moan, my eyes slamming shut. I feel her pause again, and I can imagine she’s looking up at me to make sure I’m all right. I’m sure the heaving chest and open mouth let her know that I’m mostly in one piece, and the motions resume a moment later. _Jesus_. I can feel her tongue, I can feel just the tips of her teeth barely dragging against me, her lips are wrapped around me, forming incredible suction…it’s all unbelievable. The only explanation I have is that I’m dreaming. I must be unconscious. There’s no way in real life Donna Moss is in my bedroom giving me head. It doesn’t happen.

I groan, my hips thrusting gently no matter how hard I try to control myself, and I force myself to lean back a little, bracing myself with my hands, and tilt my head back toward the ceiling. Not being so clenched up helps me to relax marginally, and try to force myself to think about something other than the immediate.

It’s been a really long time since I got a blowjob, though. Longer than I want to admit to myself. I definitely can’t remember the last time I got one in my own home. And maybe it’s the fact that I’m literally inside of her mouth right now, but Donna is better at this than anyone else I’ve ever known. 

Actually, I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that it’s Donna. Plain and simple. I’m getting the blowjob of a lifetime from the woman I’ve fantasized about for almost ten years. Like the rest of our sexual encounters so far, it was either going to suck, or it was going to be the most mind-blowing experience of my life.

I’m beyond thrilled it’s the latter. 

She makes a noise and I glance down at her, startled to find her staring at me. Her eyes are intense and unnerving. I watch in utter fascination as I slide out of her mouth, her hand taking over—rubbing up and down my entire length—as she takes a few deep breaths. The reprieve only lasts a few moments before her tongue is on me again, running up me, changing sides and angles, and all I can think about is that she looks like she’s eating a damn ice cream cone, and I know that I’ll never be able to see her doing that again without imagining her going down on me. 

She smiles again and takes me into her mouth once more. “Son of a— _Donna!_ ” She peeks up at me for a brief moment before returning her focus to my erection, sucking harder, taking me in deeper, her hands pulling at me with more determination. My entire body trembles, and I feel a tingling that starts way down in my toes. It hits me at that moment that she has no intention of letting up. She wants me to come this way. If that happens…I’m done. I’ll be passed out within a minute. I can have regular sex and still mostly manage to function as a normal human being afterward, but if I orgasm from head, I become comatose. She has no way of knowing that about me yet, and quite frankly, that’s not how I want this to end. So long as she’s game for more, I am, too.

Gathering all the strength I have, I grab her arms and give her a pull, shuddering when I’m released from her mouth with a loud pop. She stares at me in confusion as I tug at her a few times, eventually crawling onto the bed, lying down next to me after I flop onto my back. 

“Is everything all right?” she asks softly, and I turn my head to face her. She looks worried, and all I want to do is gather her in my arms and let her know how perfect she is. The only thing that stops me is knowing that the friction created by her dress against my skin would likely be my undoing. 

“It was just gonna be over way too fast,” I reassure her, reaching a shaking hand out to tuck her hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek a moment later.

“I don’t mind.” She smiles at me almost shyly, and I feel her hand wrap around me again, moving in gentle but determined strokes. My eyes slam shut at the sensation, and I force myself to take long, cleansing breaths. I can feel an orgasm building in me, pushing at me, demanding release, and with more willpower than I knew I possessed, I grab her wrist, shoving it away.

“I mind,” I gasp, managing to open my eyes. “I’d really like to have sex with you tonight.”

She sighs, leaning in toward me. Her lips brush against mine, her touch feather-light, and a complete contradiction to what she was doing to me just seconds ago. My arm wraps around her and she settles against me for a few moments before she slides away, just out of reach. I wrinkle my forehead in confusion and she leans in, giving me a quick kiss. She sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed. I reach out and stroke her hip, my fingertips just barely making contact. She turns her head, glancing at me over her shoulder, and she licks her lips. I can’t stifle the groan that escapes me. I don’t think she even did that in a way that was meant to be anything more than a simple gesture, but it nearly makes me come apart.

I hear her laugh softly, and I don’t know that I entirely blame her. If I weren’t in a state of extreme arousal, I’m sure I’d find my reaction comical, too. She stands and turns to face me, placing a hand on her hip. The tips of her fingers stroke the fabric of her dress lightly. “You want to help me with this, or…”

I’m on my feet before she can finish the thought, ignoring the discomfort and disregarding the fact I’m completely naked and painfully aroused. She wants to get naked—she wants me to help her get naked—and that’s literally all my brain can comprehend.

My arms go around her, though, and I press my mouth to hers. She smiles, and a charge rushes through me—I make her smile. She’s done that a lot already tonight, and she hasn’t been here that long. I don’t know why that’s such a heady feeling, or why it hits me out of the blue, but I want to be able to make her smile all the time.

I slide my hands all over her, feeling myself start to panic a moment later. “Uh, Donna?” I manage to mumble.

“Hmmm?”

“How does this thing open?” My hands scramble over her dress again, but I can’t find anything. “Is there a zipper? Buttons?”

She pulls back, eyes sparkling in the low light, her hands playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. “None of that. It’s just a pullover—”

I grab the bottom of the dress, yanking it up her body without waiting for further instructions. She laughs a little, and I swallow heavily as she stands before me in nothing but her bra and panties—something dark, like gray or deep blue—and her knee-high boots. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. 

I want nothing more than to devour her, to consume her in some way, but I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to center myself. I shake out her dress, doing my best to turn it right side out, and take a few shaky steps to my closet, where I actually dig out a hanger and hang it up for her. When I turn back to her, she looks incredibly surprised. I don’t have an answer for her; I just figured she wouldn’t want her clothes wrinkled. 

“Do you want to turn down the bed?” she asks softly, and I’m fairly positive that she could use that voice to ask me if I’d go stand in the middle of the Mall in my current state and I wouldn’t think twice before complying. I grab the comforter and sheet, yanking them down to the foot of the bed, looking up when I hear her put something on the nightstand. Her hands disappear behind her hair, and a moment later, another object lands on the nightstand. Earrings. Interesting. Her hands go to her neck, her head tilting to one side, and I realize too late that she’s taking off her necklace—I should have helped her with that. But I suddenly can’t help but stare at the small pile of jewelry on the bedside table, just sitting there casually, as if she leaves it there every night. It’s unbelievably fascinating. 

She sits down on the edge of the bed, effectively pulling me out of my reverie, and tugs first at one boot, then the other, placing them carefully out of the way, and for a moment, I wonder if I can ask her to leave them on. Maybe that’d be crossing a line, though. Maybe the boots aren’t that comfortable. Maybe that’s a request I shouldn’t make when we’ve only been sleeping together for a week.

She tosses her hair, smiling up at me as I move to stand in front of her, fascinated by the picture she creates. Sitting casually at the edge of my bed, somehow looking cute and unbelievably sexy in her underwear, embodying innocence and a bit of danger all at once. I reach out, my fingers caressing the soft skin of her neck, and it sends shivers down my spine. I see her hand come up, and she’s grasping me again, stroking me at an agonizing pace.

I try to stifle a moan, bringing my other hand up to her neck, and run my fingers down to her shoulders and back, eventually pushing her bra straps out of the way. She looks up at me again, her eyes actually smoldering, and I do my best to ignore it. I bend at the waist, bringing my lips to her neck, and fortunately mostly pull out of her hand. I slide my hands down her back, wasting no time in locating the clasp of her bra; I fumble for just a few moments before it pops open, coming loose in my hands. I stand and pull it with me, and I can honestly say that I don’t know what happens to it when I see her breasts. It’s more than a little ridiculous, considering that I’ve seen them several times now, but Donna’s naked form absolutely captivates me. Even half-naked is enough to almost kill me.

I drop down in front of her and wrap my arms around her hips, pulling her to me. I lick my lips before I wrap them around one of her nipples, running my tongue over it, using my teeth to scrape at her carefully. I can feel her entire body shudder, and one of her hands threads through my hair. I switch to her other breast and my hands wander lower, my fingers sliding under the edge of her panties once again. I give them a few tugs and she shifts, lifting herself up for a few moments as I pull the scrap of silk and lace down her thighs, letting go of her breast regretfully as I move out of the way. I pull the underwear off completely and toss it, and it disappears somewhere over my shoulder. I put my hands on her knees, breathing heavily as a wave of pure Donna hits me. Whatever it is that makes her smell the way she smells on a daily basis hits me in a concentrated wave and it actually makes me salivate. I lean forward, eager to make contact, when I feel her hand on my shoulder.

“It’s not tit for tat, Josh,” she tells me softly. “You don’t have to do it just because I did.”

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” I answer, leaning forward again. 

She chuckles a little. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t want you to think— _ohhhh_.” She moans as my tongue finds her, and it takes everything in me not to moan, too. I grab her ass and pull her forward, her legs shaking a little as she balances on the very edge of the mattress. I grab one of her legs and tug, putting it over my shoulder. Her body vibrates beneath my touch and I can’t help but smile to myself, applying more pressure with my tongue, covering the rest of her with my lips. She arches into me, pressing herself against my mouth, and I actually sigh with satisfaction.


	2. Chapter 2

_She arches into me, pressing herself against my mouth, and I actually sigh with satisfaction._

Truthfully, I’ve never been too sure about my prowess in this regard. I like to think I’m good in bed—though I suppose no one wants to think they’re bad at sex—and I don’t seem to have gotten too many complaints over the years, and even fewer as I’ve gotten older and wiser, and more willing and able to listen to the woman I’m with. When I decided to make it my goal to always give a woman an orgasm, I figured I’d better work on my oral skills, and it seems to have been a sure winner. Still, every woman is different, and I never know if what I’m doing is working or if I’m just being placated. So far, it seems to be working for Donna, at least in the few chances I’ve had to do this to her, and I’ve discovered that I actually quite enjoy the process. It’s an even better experience with Donna, though. She feels better, she reacts better, hell, she even tastes better. I’ve always been willing to go down on a woman in the past, but now…I feel like I could live here. 

Her hand is in my hair suddenly, her fingers yanking at me; I wince but since she doesn’t seem to actually be pulling me away, I flick my tongue against her faster. I glance up, the view partially obstructed by her breasts, but it looks like her head is thrown back. Another good sign. I tighten my arms around her waist, trying to breathe through my nose so that I don’t have to leave her for a moment.

Her thigh shakes against me, her heel thumping against my back, and I unravel one of my arms, moving it between her legs. I readjust my mouth, focusing on her lovely bundle of nerves, and my fingers come up to stroke her carefully. She shudders again, her hips jerking against my face. Carefully, I slide one of my fingers into her, another one following closely behind. I groan at the sensation, ridiculous as it seems even to me.

“Oh, God,” she whispers, her entire body starting to thrust in time with my mouth and hand. “ _Oh, God!_ ” Her fingers clench in my hair for a moment, then release, repeating the process over and over again. “Oh, my God. Yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, _God!_ ”

All of a sudden, there’s a hand on my forehead, pushing me away forcefully. I look up at her, puzzled, and involuntarily lick my lips, reveling in the flavor. Even in the low light, I can see that her entire body is flushed. I can see her muscles twitching, and her chest heaves appealingly as she gasps for air.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask softly, noticing absently that I’m still stroking my fingers in and out of her.

She lets out a shaky laugh, her hand returning to my hair. She strokes my scalp affectionately, biting her lip. “Sex, Josh. I thought you wanted to have sex.”

“I did. I _do_. But this is kind of fun, too.”

She laughs again and I lean forward, kissing her inner thigh. Before I can go any further, she says, “I just think I’m about to embarrass myself.”

I look up at her again, and she looks at me imploringly. I personally don’t find it embarrassing at all if she comes from me going down on her, but it seems to matter to her. I nod and kiss her thigh again before moving upward. I trail my lips over her stomach, smiling when I feel her twitch beneath my lips. I make a couple of teasing passes at her nipples, suckling each of them for just a moment before I move onto her neck. She tilts her head for me, granting me access. I keep up a slow, steady motion with my hand, still moving within her—I’m only trying to keep her primed, nothing more. I feel her hum beneath my lips before she turns her head, angling it down toward me. I kiss her softly, and she moans quietly into my mouth.

She nudges me a few moments later, and I take the hint, pulling away. I thrust my fingers within her a few more times, curving them up to make her squirm, before I remove them completely. I sit back on my haunches, gazing at her unabashedly for a few moments before I force myself to my feet. My knees protest after kneeling before her for so long, but I do my best to ignore them. I grab a condom out of the nightstand, sending up a silent “thank you” to the universe that I have a reason to use the optimistic supply I bought after the first time we kissed.

I turn and watch her fall back against the bed, stretching out her long body. She smiles at me as her back arches, her breasts thrusting up toward the ceiling, before she turns over. My eyes open wide, my mouth following suit, as she pulls herself up to her hands and knees.

“Oh, sweet lord,” I breathe, my hands going so slack that I drop the still-wrapped condom onto the bed.

She looks at me over her shoulder and I actually have to shut my eyes for a few moments. I harden painfully, my erection actually straining toward her in desperation. “Is this okay?” she asks, her voice quiet, almost unsure, and my eyes fly open. All I can do is stare at her in shock. “From behind, I mean. I know we haven’t done it that way yet—”

“I’m good if you are,” I answer, somehow sounding more self-assured than I feel. 

She smiles and nods, crawling a little further onto the bed. I have to look away. This is too much. I focus instead on the condom, picking it up and tearing it open carefully, but Donna is too much to resist. I take a few steps closer to the bed, reaching out to stroke her soft skin. 

“You really have the most incredible ass,” I breathe. I’ve always— _always_ —admired it beneath her clothes, perverted and inappropriate as that is, and though I’ve seen her naked several times now, the back of her isn’t something I’ve had a lot of opportunity to admire; turns out it’s just as magnificent as the front.

She giggles softly, and I run my fingers over her reverently. It hits me for about the millionth time that this is _Donna_. How am I doing this with _Donna_? How was I lucky enough to get here? Why is she even bothering with me? Hell, why is she seeking me out? She could have any guy she wanted…and she’s picking me? I don’t get it.

I give myself a shake, trying to snap out of it. I’ll do better to not question my good fortune at the moment.

I finally pull the condom out of the wrapper and roll it over myself, wincing a little at the contact—I’m going to have to find a way to calm down if I want this to be any good, or to last more than five seconds. 

I pull myself onto the bed, kneeling behind her, and I bend down to press my lips to her spine. She shifts a little, her hips angling toward me. I can’t help myself; my hand finds its way between her thighs, stroking her gently, and we manage to whimper at the same time. I’ve never been the sort that could manage to pull off talking about how “wet” a woman is, especially not to her face. I suppose there are a few people out there who can make it sound cool, but for sure I’m not one of them. But she is insanely wet right now, and it’s a rush to my ego knowing that it’s absolutely because of me. The fact that I can turn her on isn’t something I can wrap my mind around.

“Are you…” I choke out, my voice strained. She moans in response, nodding her head, and I inch forward, positioning myself at her entrance. With very little effort, I slide into her, trying to take it slowly. She moans again, her arms going out from under her. I grab onto her hips and push all the way in, and my knees almost give out. God, even just this moment—the initial contact, being inside of her in those first few seconds—is better than sex with any other woman I’ve known. Again, it has to be because it’s Donna. It has to be. She’s taken up residence in my mind for too long for sex to not be larger than life.

I pull myself back and thrust back in slowly, my eyes rolling back in my head. She clenches her muscles around me and I have to stop moving for a few moments to regain control. I take a few deep breaths, digging my fingers into her hips, and she pushes herself back up to her hands. Her arms are shaking but she seems to be steady otherwise. She pushes her hips back a little and I groan. “You’re going to kill me,” I tell her.

She pushes her hips back again, and I take the less-than-subtle hint. I readjust my hold on her hips and slide almost completely out of her. We meet in the middle as we thrust at the same time, and I really think I’m going to die. There’s no way I can withstand it.

She turns her head, looking at me over shoulder as best as she can, and I start breathing loudly through my nose. It takes every ounce of control that I possess, and a few that I don’t, to not completely lose myself and slam into her like crazy. God knows it’s what my body wants. I try so hard to keep it relatively slow—even though it feels amazing and parts of me are desperate for that release, the rest of me can’t get over how this feels and wants to hold onto it for as long as possible. She moans, her mouth dropping open as her eyes flicker shut.

The reality of Donna is better than any fantasy I’ve ever had.

“You feel incredible,” I whisper, my voice barely working as I start thrusting into her at a steady pace. She smiles, her eyes still shut, and a moment later, her head drops forward, her hair curtaining her face. I would love to try to distract myself from this somehow, but there’s nothing I can do. Everything about her feels amazing—the heat of her, the way I fit inside of her, her body tight around me. I’ve known some guys over the years that complain about wearing condoms, but I have no idea how I’d manage to last more than a minute or two inside of her without some sort of barrier. I really think they’re the only things that keep me in check.

“God, Josh,” she groans, her arms stretching out in front of her, her back arching. “ _Harder_.”

I shudder at just her request, tightening my hold on her. I really, _really_ want to do what she asks, but I also feel like this will all be over far too quickly if I do.

I take a few deep breaths, pulling out of her slowly before ramming back into her. She gasps and I pause, waiting to see if she tells me it’s too much. All she does is look at me over her shoulder once more. So, I do it again, pausing this time to make sure I can actually handle it. When my body doesn’t betray me, I set up this new rhythm—slow and hard—relishing in every moan that falls from her lips.

Christ, she’s sexy. I’ve always been aware that Donna’s attractive—beautiful, really—but I’ve tried to keep it compartmentalized in the generic beauty portion of my brain. It hasn’t always worked, especially not the last few years. Those years were tough. I watched her come into her own, growing in leaps and bounds, learning more than any human ever should at one time, running circles around me, making a name for herself in national politics, and that part has been sexy as hell. The confidence she has now is unbelievable, though completely earned. She stands up straighter, she gives answers to questions that no one can dispute, she walks with such purpose and determination. It’s hot. It’s ridiculously hot. I nearly threw myself at her feet a few dozen times when we worked together in the White House, but it’s been even tougher for the last year and a half, at least. Once she joined the Santos campaign…hell, I knew I was a goner. I stood no chance against her. Whether she wanted me or not, I knew I was going to make a fool of myself over her at some point, and I was only a little surprised to find that I was okay with it.

I slide my hands off her hips, tentatively stroking her ass. Her skin is so unbelievably soft, so pale that any time I touch her just a little too hard, angry looking fingerprints show up right away. I’m relieved that they seem to fade almost as quickly, but it makes me want to handle her with kid gloves nonetheless.

“More,” she demands, pushing herself against me. “ _Josh_.”

I move my hands over her soft skin a few more times before I run my fingers up her back, watching in fascination as the muscles twitch and bunch every time she thrusts. I grab onto her shoulders, pulling her into me faster. 

Oh, dear God.

That’s intense. 

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes,” she moans in time with every thrust, and it just spurns me on. I push into her faster, not bothering to pull back as far each time. I wish this could go on forever. It’s incredible. 

“More, more, _more_ ,” she gasps, her voice increasing steadily until it’s echoing around my room, bouncing back at me, making me want to give her anything she asks for.

Until my body starts to tighten and tingle. I cannot let this end now. I slow down, draping myself over her. I brush her hair over her shoulder before bracing my hands next to hers, and kiss her neck. I thrust into her slowly, moving my hips against hers gently, and I can feel my heart pounding against her back. She breathes heavily as she tilts her head, giving me more access to her neck. 

“You all right?” I mumble against her skin, just checking in to make sure we’re on the same page.

“Mmmmm,” she answers, and I can see her smile. “Why’d you stop?”

“I wasn’t going to last long like that,” I answer, the truth spilling out before I can remind myself not to sound like such an inexperienced loser. She doesn’t seem fazed by it, though.

“This feels good, too,” she says, and I could swear it sounds like she’s purring. She tightens her inner muscles around me and I grunt into her ear. She doesn’t play fair. She rolls her hips against me, gently, but it still drives me wild.

I push myself up again, running my hands down her back before I tug at her sides. She pushes herself up, too, and I immediately wrap my arms around her, holding her flush against my chest. She turns her head, angling it back a little, and I press my lips to hers. We kiss slowly, languorously, our tongues rubbing against each other’s in a way that’s somehow anything but lewd. How did I go all these years without kissing her?

She rotates her hips against mine, and we both shudder at the sensation. I readjust my grip on her, trying to cup both of her breasts with one hand, my other hand spreading out across her stomach, and I thrust into her. She pulls her mouth away, gasping. I reposition myself, settling back on my haunches, and she drapes herself more fully on my lap, her thighs drifting open so that her knees bracket mine.

I let out a sigh, my eyes falling shut. This feels perfect. My knees will be killing me in the morning, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything. I don’t have as much leverage as before, but it’s a sacrifice I’m happy to make. 

I press my lips to her neck again, sucking in her delicate skin, and we somehow both start to move at the same time. The thrusts are shorter this way, but that almost helps to keep me in check. She clenches around me, pulling me further into her, and I tighten my hold on her. She grinds her hips against me, moving in tiny circles, then switches back to the quick, up-and-down motion.

The hand that I have on her stomach moves almost of its own accord, sliding in between her thighs. When I make contact with her sensitive skin, she gasps and jerks, her body moving uncontrollably for a few seconds. I shift again, just a little, and find a bit more leverage, moving quickly within her. She moans loudly, drowning out the sound of flesh hitting flesh for a few seconds. Her hands come up to cover mine, squeezing my fingers. She gasps again and shoves away the hand between her legs, shaking.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask immediately, stopping all motion, feeling worry spread throughout my body.

Every muscle in her is tense, but she shakes her head a moment later. “No. No, you’re doing everything very right.” She laughs a little, though it comes out entirely breathless. “ _Very_ right.”

“Is there…a problem?”

She tilts her head back against my shoulder, her face close to mine. “It was about to be over very quickly.”

“But…you can have multiple orgasms, right? I mean, I’ve seen it happen.” I’ve seen it, and it’s magnificent.

“It just feels embarrassing to come so quickly,” she mumbles, her already flushed skin turner even redder.

I stroke her breast gently, pulling her closer to me somehow. That’s what she’s been worried about? Coming too fast? How can she not know it’s amazing that she orgasms at all? I don’t care how fast or slow it happens as long as it happens. “I think it’s beautiful.”

Her head snaps up, and she gives me an unreadable look. “What?”

“I think it’s amazing that I can do that to you. I’d like to do it to you now, if you’ll let me.” I’m talking a big game here—I have no idea if I can coax more than one orgasm from her tonight. I will, however, consider one a win. I’ll try like hell to give her two, though.

She presses her lips to mine, grabbing the hand that’s been resting near her knee and moving it back between her thighs. I move my fingers gently, rubbing her slower than before. She sighs into my mouth. She keeps her hand on mine, holding it in place. 

She pushes against me faster all of a sudden, resuming our pace from before. My fingers speed up in response, though I try like hell to slow them down a little. It’s not easy—now that I know her orgasm is imminent, I kind of can’t wait for it to happen.

Our mouths tear apart from each other, both of us moaning when she starts grinding against me again. Her hips move back and forth, and I can feel her tightening around me. She pushes my hand down more firmly, and I take my cues from her. I rub her faster, though I try to keep the touch relatively light.

“Oh, God,” she gasps. She moves her hips faster, and I do my best to keep up, thrusting and grinding as quickly as I can. “ _Josh_.”

I kiss her shoulder, trying to focus on her and her needs, hoping it’ll distract me from how phenomenal this feels. It sort of works.

Her body goes rigid, everything vibrating. “Right there, right there, right there,” she breathes. I keep doing exactly what I’ve been doing, feeling sweat dripping down my body as I put everything I have into her. “ _Ohhhhhhhh!_ ” I feel her thighs shaking. She jerks and rocks against me. Her back arches, her body going taught for a few seconds, and I think she stops breathing. She collapses inward a little, her head dropping forward as an orgasm starts to roll through her. I continue to rub her, but I try to let her take the lead on the rest of it; she knows what she needs right now.

Her hands grab at my arms, squeezing tightly. She moans so loudly it sounds like she’s in pain. Her hips start pushing against mine even faster, though the motion is uncoordinated. I can feel her pulse all around me, her insides tightening and pulling at me, and I think I could die right now and feel like I’ve accomplished all I need to in this life.  
“Josh!” she yells, moving hard against me for a few long, beautiful seconds before her body goes slack. She weakly pushes my hand from between her thighs and I readjust my grip on her, focusing on keeping her upright. She whimpers as she breathes, her body trembling in tiny bursts. I lean forward and kiss her neck again, keeping the touch gentle this time. I slide my hands up her body, unable to help cupping her breasts, squeezing them just a little. She moans quietly, though I’m guessing not in protest because she pushes her chest into my touch.

She turns her head suddenly, her lips pressing against the side of my face, and I hurry to readjust my angle, kissing her as hard as I can. Her arm comes up, wrapping over my shoulders. She holds on tightly, kissing me frantically. I knead her breasts roughly, squeezing her nipples between my fingers, and she grinds herself against me. I pull away, gasping, my body still on edge, and she droops away from me, fairly melting out of my grasp. She actually looks like a puddle on my bed—a beautiful, blonde, glowing puddle. Rolling onto her back, she looks at me, smiling brightly as she laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly, I couldn’t resist posting this on Hump Day. It may not be that day of the week when you guys read it, depending on where you live, but...it entertains the hell out of me. Thanks for the support thus far. Unless I find another break in the next part, should just be one more chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

_Rolling onto her back, she looks at me, smiling brightly as she laughs._

“What’s funny?” I ask, my voice strangled, and a million awful things she could be laughing at run through my fuzzy, sex-hazed brain.

She shakes her head, stretching out her long limbs. “Wow,” she breathes. 

And just like that, my ego reinflates. “Yeah?”

Her head lolls to one side, but she keeps her eyes on me. “Mmmm. I think I need a few minutes.”

I can actually see my erection twitch, the need for release overwhelming, but all I do is nod. I can wait. Hell, it might actually do me some good at this point. I drop to the bed, too, breathing heavily, my head positioned near her knees.

She laughs again, a low, throaty chuckle. I reach out and grab onto her leg, stroking her calf. Even those muscles are trembling. Wow indeed.

Part of me wants to talk to her, ask her why she’s here tonight, how she knew I’d want to be with her even if I couldn’t express it, but there’s another part of me that just doesn’t care. She’s here. She’s naked in my bed. If I’m as smart as I like to think I am, I won’t question my good fortune. I’ll just do everything in my power to make sure she doesn’t regret losing sleep to be with me.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly, and I turn to press a kiss to her shin. 

“Of course—why?”

“I’ve kind of left you hanging.”

“No, I’m all right,” I insist, even though I feel very much like I could combust. “I’m not in a rush.”

She hums again; even though I’m so far gone that my hearing is buzzing and my vision isn’t exactly the clearest, I’m truly content. I’ve had great sex tonight, orgasm or not, and now the woman of my dreams, for lack of a more original expression, is lounging on my bed, nude. It doesn’t get much better than this.

I roll over onto my side, propping myself up a little. I trace the tips of my fingers up her leg, marveling to myself. Donna’s body is nothing like I expected. She has such a narrow build that I sort of assumed that if I ever got this point with her, she’d almost feel like she could break in half. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

I lean forward and press a kiss to her quad, smiling as it vibrates beneath my lips. Her muscles are strong. Not rock hard, but firmer than I ever would have thought. I’m not sure if she works out or if this is her natural state, but the same is true of her stomach muscles and biceps. They all have this lovely definition as they flex. And curves—she has more curves than any person her size I’ve ever encountered. She has these amazing hips and a wonderful ass, and full breasts that almost don’t fit into my hands. I should feel like a letch scrutinizing her this way, but…I can’t help it. I can’t help but admire just how lovely she is, and how she seems to contradict herself in this way. Not that she necessarily has control over some of it; I’ve known her long enough and seen the way she eats to know that “willowy” is just her natural state of being. All the wonderful curves just work in counterpoint to that.

I look up at her to find her watching me through half-mast eyes, her chest still moving rapidly. I smile and return to my inspection.

I reach over to her right leg, running my fingers over the skin there. I come across something a little bumpy, just a little out of place, and I lift myself up, leaning over to investigate. I shudder a little when I see it, though more from the memories it brings back than anything else. In fact, the scar itself is faint, hardly noticeable, but all I can do is picture her lying in that hospital bed, her leg propped up, cuts and gashes all over her face…

I’m not sure how I haven’t noticed the surgical scar before now, though we haven’t done this so many times that I’ve been comfortable focusing on the minutia, nor have I necessarily thought about it. She moves without difficulty, never limping or cringing when she’s been sitting too long, so I guess I don’t think about it. Or I don’t let myself think about it. Thinking about Donna lying helpless in a hospital bed, or on a table being prepped for surgery, or flying through the air as her car is blown up, is so horrible that I _can’t_ let myself consider it. I came too close to losing her then.

She shifts a little, somehow working her left leg from beneath me and picking it up; I watch in fascination as it arcs through the air before landing on the other side of me. I can take a hint—back to the fun stuff.

I kiss the inside of her thighs, running my tongue over the soft skin there. I move to her center and nuzzle my nose against her. She hisses and twitches, but doesn’t push me away, and I vow to spend only a few moments in one of my new favorite locations. My tongue flicks out against her, and her hips jerk. I breathe in deeply, the essence of Donna even headier now, and even more of an aphrodisiac. Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I cover her with my mouth, suckling gently. I try to avoid direct contact with key areas, worrying that it might be too much too soon, and she bucks against me. I feel her hands in my hair, holding me in place. Seriously, I swear I could do this forever. Going down on Donna is now in my top five all-time favorite pastimes, and it has everything to do with knowing I can make her feel good.

I swipe at her a few more times with my tongue before I pull away, kissing my way up across her pelvis and hips, pausing at her stomach. God, even her bellybutton is perfect. I press my mouth against her skin, my teeth grazing against her, and I can feel her stomach muscles twitch. She keeps one of her hands in my hair, scratching at my scalp just a little—it’s enough to send shivers down my spine.

I move upward to her chest, running my mouth over as much of her as I can reach, suckling at her breasts for a few seconds before continuing on, and I watch with satisfaction as her pale skin flushes, turning pink in the soft light of the bedside lamp.

“What’s that word?” I ask, stroking her skin tenderly.

“What word?” she asks in return, one of her hands now running up and down my arm.

“I don’t know—you used it to describe yourself.”

“I’ve used a lot of descriptive words over the years, Josh. You’re going to have to narrow it down.”

I smile, pressing my lips to her sternum. “It was a fancier way of saying pale skin.”

She pauses and I look up at her. She smiles slowly, still managing to give me a strange look. “Alabaster.”

“Yeah, that’s right—‘alabaster.’”

“What made you think of that?”

I shrug, kissing the underside of one of her breasts. “Just noticing how nicely pink shows up on your skin, and I remembered that you didn’t say you were pale. I just couldn’t remember the rest of it.”

“Well, I do have alabaster skin,” she tells me defensively.

“I know,” I answer, moving to the underside of her other breast.

“It’s very delicate and sensitive.”

“I’m sure it is.” I slide up her until we’re face to face. “Where’d you come up with that description, though?”

She sighs, and I watch her cheeks turn pink, matching the rest of her body. “It sounds nicer than calling myself ‘pasty.’”

I feel a huge smile break out across my face, and she laughs self-deprecatingly. “I don’t think I’d ever call you pasty,” I assure her, but she just rolls her eyes. Her hand comes up to my neck, tugging me down to meet her for a kiss. It’s not easy around my grin at first, but as her legs wrap around me, pulling me closer, the smile fades and I focus on her kissing her.

Her arm snakes in between us, and I groan into her mouth as she grasps me, moving her hand up and down gently, and I’m once against grateful for the barrier the condom creates. 

She pulls at me, bringing me toward her entrance, and I manage to break away, pushing myself up to my knees. She stares at me, wide-eyed and confused, her chest heaving, and I shake my head. 

“Hang on.” With that, I pull off the condom we’d used just a few minutes ago and toss it in the trash, reaching over her to the nightstand to grab another. I have no idea what could have gotten on the first one as I was lounging on the bed, but I don’t imagine it was anything that needed to be transferred to her. Sex may be messy, but if I can do anything to prevent something unpleasant getting into her, I’ll do it.

She tilts her head as she watches me, and I can’t read her expression. I feel oddly self-conscious as I roll the condom on me; I can’t imagine why, though. She’s seen me do it. She’s helped me do it. I try to push away the sensation and settle myself more comfortably between her legs, still balancing on my knees. Her feet come up, bracing on either side of me, and I run my hands up her calves. 

“You ready?” I ask, and she grins broadly, a twinkle in her eye.

“You tell me.” 

Even I can figure out that one. I reach in between us, gently sliding my fingers over her. She breathes a little heavier, her hips thrusting just a bit, pushing toward me, and I can’t help but shudder. Yeah—she’s ready.

I guide myself into her, pulling her hips off the bed, and close my eyes for a few moments. She moans a little, and I can feel her clench around me. I grab onto her thighs and pull her toward me, pushing all the way into her. Her eyes fly open, her back arches, and she cries out. I pause for just a moment to make sure it wasn’t a cry of protest, but she reaches out and grabs my hands, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Good?” I ask anyway, just to be sure.

“Mmmm,” she answers, wiggling herself closer to me. She stretches her legs suddenly, putting them straight in the air for just a few seconds before resting them against my shoulders. 

“Oh, God, _Donna_ ,” I groan, marveling at the view I have. I turn my head and kiss her leg, trying to get a grip on my traitorous body.

“Even better.” She tightens herself around me, her eyebrow quirking up, and I take that as my cue. I pull out of her slowly, moving back into her at the same pace. 

“Dear lord.” I’m not even sure how that’s my voice. It’s so high-pitched and strained; it’s almost embarrassing.

“ _Josh_ ,” she whines. 

“What?” I ask, tightening my grip on her thighs. I feel a bead of sweat drip down my chest, and I rock my hips back and forth, pushing into her at a steady pace.

She pushes herself against me as quickly as her position will let her. “You don’t have to go slow for me.”

I can’t help but chuckle just a little. “I think it might be more for me at this point.”

She locks her ankles behind my head and I almost explode. “Don’t hold back.”

Apparently, that’s all the encouragement that I need. I let go of her legs and lean forward a little, bracing my hands on the bed next to her hips. She bites her lip, her hands coming out to hold onto my forearms, and I start thrusting quickly. There’s still a huge part of me that doesn’t want this to end—that wants to drag this sensation out forever—but I honestly think that if I don’t have an orgasm in the next few minutes, I will actually die.

I mean, at least I’d die inside of Donna, but I’m pretty sure I’d rather just have the orgasm. 

“Yesssss,” she whispers. Her fingernails dig into my skin. She tilts her head back, exposing the long line of her throat, and her back arches along with it. The movement of her breasts is hypnotic, and enough to distract me so that I can pound into her without losing control completely. 

She lets out little moans in time to my movements, almost squeaking each time I slam into her. Part of me keeps waiting for her to tell me to stop, that I’m being too rough or that the angle doesn’t work for her, but somehow, against all odds, she’s responding to all this. I know that women aren’t delicate, and I also know that they don’t all want sex to be slow and romantic all the time, but that doesn’t stop me from being worried that I’ll do something wrong, or that I’ll hurt her. Of course, that’s been a genuine concern of mine for years, though in a much less physical way.

I lean forward some more, knowing I won’t be able to hold myself up like this forever. The day has been too long, I haven’t gotten enough sleep, and I’m getting too old to maintain sexual acrobatics. I think I’m pretty solid with the basics, and by now I’ve proven that I can certainly hold my own in bed, but I guess there are some things in this arena that might be for the younger, more athletic set. Damn it.

Still…she’s not complaining, and that’s really all I care about at this point.

As I lean into her further, her body almost folds in half, her knees nearly touching her shoulders. If I trusted my voice right now, I would say something snarky about never knowing how flexible she could be, but I think she’d hit me. Or, worse, get up and leave. Definitely not worth the risk.

She unlocks her ankles, her legs sliding down my arms until they rest over my elbows. I scoot up until my face is over hers and we’re eye to eye. In my peripheral vision, I can her legs moving in time with each thrust, and it fascinates the hell out of me.

“Ohhhhhhh,” she moans suddenly, her eyes going wide, and she wraps her arms around my neck. “That’s good,” she tells me in a gasp. “Right there, that’s good, like that.”

“You gonna come again?” I ask breathlessly, sliding my arms under her back. I wish I could sound suave asking that, but I’m fairly certain it comes out creepy.

“Yeaa _aaahhh_.”

I know she said “right there,” but I take a chance and switch it up a little, going from the back and forth motion to up and down, driving into her. Somehow, her eyes get wider. I have to pause for a few moments as I sink further into her than I think I’ve ever been.

“Holy shit,” I whisper, not caring that I sound like some kid who’s never had sex before. This feels incredible. I’d swear that right now, we were one person.

Her body shudders as she stares me; I can even feel her insides trembling. Her arms tighten around me, pulling me flush against her, our faces a millimeter apart as our eyes search each other’s.

“Kiss me,” she says, and I immediately press my lips to hers, our mouths moving in tandem. One of her hands holds onto the back of my neck, keeping me close. 

My hips move a little, almost completely on their own, and she responds, pushing upward. I pull almost out of her, pushing back in gently as we kiss, keeping everything slow. She whimpers into my mouth, suddenly thrusting against me insistently, and I follow her lead; I start moving faster, resuming that up and down thing that seems to be doing it for her. Her nails dig into my back. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the pain and that I might feel that later, but right now, it’s completely irrelevant. 

I break away from the kiss, gasping for air; she pants against me, her breath hot and damp on my skin. I bury my face in her neck. She shifts her legs a little and I immediately unhook them from my arms, amazed that she’s managed to hold them up like that for so long. She keeps her knees up near my ribs, tightening against me, and I wrap my arms under her shoulders. 

My body is all over the place. I can’t manage to stick with one particular motion because it all feels amazing, and she’s responding to everything. I can feel her lips against my neck for a few seconds, her teeth scraping at my skin, and then her voice is in my ear. 

“Ohhhhh. Josh, yes yes, oh God, please, don’t stop don’t stop _don’t stop_.”

I don’t think I could stop right now if my life depended on it. Everything in me is tight, aching for a release. The finish line is in sight. I just really want her to cross that line with me. I feel like she’s so close.

“So good,” she gasps, and I’m not sure if she’s even aware that she’s talking. “ _So good_. Oh, yes!” She lets out a shriek, her head falling back against the bed, and I go faster. I go as fast as I can. I feel like I’m running a sprint. My groin tingles in anticipation. 

Her eyes blink up at me, a little unfocused, and I manage to bring a hand up, pushing her hair back from her face. She looks like she wants to say something. I wish I had words right now. I barely have grunts. Everything in me is focused on maintaining this rhythm, this angle, everything. I grit my teeth, and watch as a bead of my sweat lands on her chest. She grabs onto my ass suddenly, holding me in place. Her mouth drops open. I can feel her hips moving in tiny circles, rubbing against me frantically. I still try to thrust as much as possible. God, I’m so close.

“JOSH!” she yells suddenly, and her body goes completely taut. Her inner muscles grip onto me like a vice, making everything feel so much more intense. It’s taking everything I have to hold off. I just want to make sure she’s actually coming before—

“ _JOSH!_ ” she yells again, her voice louder, and she starts to undulate violently. Her body curls up around me, her hips thrusting wildly. She moans, burying her face in my neck.

I have no idea what happens next because I come undone. 

My body jerks, everything uncoordinated as I gasp into her hair. I hold onto her tighter, probably leaving marks on her delicate skin. Her legs tighten around me, ankles locking at the small of my back, and I think I black out for a few seconds as I explode.

I’m pretty sure I’m dead.

She pushes against me frantically—that much I can feel—her body pulling at me desperately as she rides out her orgasm. I go tense, my entire body still except for the rough movements of my hips, and I finally yell out, unable to create any words. I collapse on top of her, completely useless, totally spent. She’s still moving against me, though easier now. She makes soft noises in my ear, and her hands let go of my ass, coming up to stroke the damp skin of my back. 

I realize hazily that this is probably as close to a simultaneous orgasm as anyone could ever hope for. It was intense. Feeling her break apart around me, following her seconds later, both of us finding release in each other…it’s pretty incredible. I don’t know if I could survive it happening again.

Aw, hell, who am I kidding? I think this is going to be my preferred method of orgasm for the rest of my life. I realize it’s largely unobtainable, but I would be more than happy to keep trying.

I roll off her, and she moans in disappointment. I feel completely boneless. My chest heaves, and I don’t know if I’ll ever catch my breath. I manage to turn my head, looking over at her. Her face is red, flushed from exertion. With every ounce of strength I possess at that moment, I turn again, onto my side this time, and stroke my hand over her stomach. She wiggles a little, so I move down to between her thighs, running my fingers over her carefully. She gasps and bites her lip, her hips moving against my touch. She grabs onto my hand, holding it in place, and I watch in fascination as she finishes coming, amazed that it can last so long and happen in so many different ways.

She lets out a big sigh, a smile spreading across her face, and her body goes limp. I lighten my touch—I don’t want to make it uncomfortable for her, but until she pushes me away, I’d really like to keep my hand where it is, stroking her softly. She shudders a little but makes no move to stop my ministrations. 

She turns into me, her movements lazy, and I feel a twinge of disappointment as my hand falls away from her anyway. She blinks slowly, and if I weren’t in the same boat, it would almost be funny. I shift a little, reaching down to pull off the condom. I roll over to toss it in the garbage when I realize the trashcan isn’t next to the bed. I look around, confused, and it takes me far too long to realize that we’re spread diagonally across the bed, our heads near the foot of it.

“Ugh,” I groan, forcing myself to sit up. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” she asks sleepily, and when I turn to look at her, she’s stretching out like a cat. I wish I had more strength because there are a few things I’d really like to revisit right now.

“We gotta get into bed.” I swing my feet over the edge of the mattress and stand on shaky legs, tossing the condom in the garbage. I grab the blankets, most of which managed to make their way onto the floor thanks to our escapades. I sit down a moment later in relief; my tired legs thank me. When I next look, Donna’s crawling up the bed toward me. She pulls herself onto my lap, wrapping her limbs around me, and she kisses me.

My senses go on overload. Her damp, ever-so-slightly sticky body is pressed firmly against mine. There’s absolutely no barrier between my rapidly deflating erection and the amazing heat still coming off of her in waves. And she’s just kissing me. There’s nothing frantic about it; she’s just sitting on my lap, kissing me. While we’re both naked.  
She pulls away, smiling at me lazily as her fingers stroke the hair at the nape of my neck. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good,” I answer, feeling what has to be a shit-eating grin spread across my face.

“Still fried?”

I blink a few times, the synapses in my brain finally firing long enough to help me figure out what she’s talking about. “I don’t think I have enough energy to be fried right now.”

She presses her lips against mine again, and I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her tightly against me. Truthfully, I don’t know if I could accurately describe how I feel right now. I feel good—I know that for sure. I’m somewhere beyond tired, but having out-of-this-world sex with Donna has made it a good tired. I just kind of want to hold her forever right now.

She moans a little, pulling back from me as she stretches again, her arms going straight out, her body stiff, and all I can do is stare at her chest as it aches toward me. Damn, but I wish I was twenty years old again. My head wants to do this all again so very badly—my body just doesn’t have the ability to comply. 

I lean forward anyway, not even aware that I’m doing it until I’m already latched onto one of her breasts, suckling carefully. I don’t feel anything of mine stirring at the moment, but this seems like a good spot to set up residence. 

I feel her hands on the sides of my head, and she dislodges me gently. I groan in protest, but she just grins and presses another quick kiss to my lips before sliding off my lap and maneuvering under the blankets in one smooth motion. I reach over and turn off the light, surprised to see it’s not even eleven. I don’t remember the last time I was in bed at this time. There’s no way I’m going to be able to keep my eyes open for much longer, though.

I settle down into bed, Donna already on her side, facing me. I turn onto my side, too, blinking at her sleepily. She smiles and reaches toward me, her hand sliding lightly over my shoulder. “Aren’t you cold?” I finally manage to ask, gesturing toward the blankets that are resting on her hips.

“Aren’t _you?_ ” she counters.

“Why on earth would I be cold?”

“Why would I?”

I open my mouth, but I have no real answer for that. We’re mirroring each other, the covers at my hips, too, chest exposed. I suppose I’ve always assumed that women’s breasts were more sensitive to the cold, though I have no idea where that thought came from. It just seems like it should be a thing. I close my mouth and shrug.

“You can keep me warm, if you want to,” she whispers, and I’m probably imagining it, but she sounds incredibly vulnerable.

Still, if she wants me to keep her warm, who am I to say no? I scoot toward her, wrapping my arm around her waist. She shifts until she’s pressed firmly against me, her body long enough so that the contact is almost completely head to toe. I can’t see much of her in the dark; her blonde hair and pale—no, _alabaster_ —skin almost glow, but her face is unreadable. I can feel her breath hitting my skin. Her hand slides under my arm, her fingers stroking my side. I tighten my hold on her, rubbing what I hope are soothing circles on her back. She sighs contentedly. 

I’m sure it’s the blood that’s filtering its way back into my brain, suddenly without a purpose, that makes me want to say things to her that I couldn’t possibly begin to take back. Nor should I ever consider saying them to her any point after we have sex; I can’t think of a way to sound more insincere. Still, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this content or relaxed. It’s nice—really nice. There’s something about the position we’re in at the moment that feels so intimate and easy, and I want to promise her that it’ll always be like this.

“Donna?” I whisper, my voice barely above a whisper. Silence. I hold my breath, listening, but her breathing is already even and deep. My ego inflates, sick pride filling my chest—I was so good in bed that I exhausted her. I wore her out. In fairness, she did the same for me and my body feels like lead right now. Still, it’s always a nice boost for the self-confidence when you can make your woman pass out before you do.

 _My woman_. I almost chuckle at that. Other than “my weakness,” I don’t know if I have any right to claim Donna as my own anything.

I tighten my hold on her, pulling her even closer against me. I shift a little, trying not to disturb her as I get her head tucked under my chin. She sighs, wiggling against me ever so slightly, pushing her leg between mine. I feel her fingers stroke my lower back just a little before her body goes limp, feeling like she’s melted against me. Considering the last time we did this I barely actually managed to get her to spend the night, it feels like an incredibly positive sign that she seems right at home this time around. It’s good. I really like that she just crawled in next to me, no hesitation, no questions. She fits nicely against me, too.

My eyes snap open and I blink at the dark, disoriented. I can see faint light coming in from the living room and I realize I must’ve forgotten to shut the lights off before going to bed. Hell, am I even in my own bed, or am I in some hotel on the other side of the country? I glance around, startled for just a second by the body next to mine, but then everything comes rushing back to me. I don’t remember falling asleep—I only remember holding Donna.

Now, though, I’ve managed to roll onto my back but she’s still facing me, her hand resting on my chest. There’s not a lot of light in the room at the moment, but there’s enough to see that she’s managed to become even more beautiful. It’s impressive.

I pick up her hand and press a kiss to the palm, laying it down gently next to her as I sit up. I still feel wiped, but my mind is already whirling, and I know I won’t be able to get back to sleep. I glance over at the clock—it’s almost three. I got in about four hours, which is almost a record lately.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed with a sigh, trying to figure out where my clothes wound up. I drop to the floor, feeling more than a little foolish as I grope around on my hands and knees, but I find most of my clothes pushed under the bed. I ignore most of it and grab my boxers and undershirt. 

As I stand and pull on my clothes, I look over at Donna in bed, a million different feelings running through me. She really looks lovely lying there, and it’s mind-blowing that she’s in _my_ bed. Not quite as mind-blowing as what we did a few hours ago, but it makes me pretty happy all the same. I sit down on the edge of the bed, studying her. She’s dead to the world, her mouth open just a little. For a second I wonder what it’d be like to have her next to me every night, but I push that away. It’s enough that she’s here right now. I don’t want to ask too much from the universe.

I consider crawling back into bed; even if I can’t sleep, it might be nice to just to be here with her. I scrub my face with my hands, moving up to scratch my head. I don’t have time to lounge around in bed. I don’t have time for anything. There’s so much work for me to do and not nearly enough time to do it. 

I bite back a groan of frustration, turning to look at Donna once more. She looks so peaceful, and even though she’s not exactly what I’d call old, she looks unbelievably young while sleeping. Reaching over, I carefully sweep her hair over her shoulder, taking a moment I shouldn’t to run my fingers over her soft skin. I grab the blankets still pooled at her waist and pull them up, covering her so she doesn’t get cold. I take a last long look and push myself off the bed, stopping for another moment as her small pile of jewelry on the nightstand catches my eye. It’s such an odd thing to focus on, but it’s just something else that looks like it belongs—Donna’s stuff casually mingling with my own, though she’d probably have some little bowl or something on the dresser she’d put those things in if she were more of a regular here. I’m sure, if I were so inclined, that if I were to go check out her dress hanging in my closet, I’d get all moony over the way her clothes look next to mine. It’s really ridiculous to focus on something that probably means nothing, especially with my brain functioning on so little sleep at this point. I give myself a mental shake and wander as quietly as possible into the living room, blinking at the light. 

Pulling my laptop out of my bag, I power it up, tapping my finger anxiously on the table as I wait. I grab out a few notepads and pens, and when the computer still hasn’t gotten there, I look around, anxious for something to do. I straighten the pillows on the couch, something I’m not sure I’ve ever done before, then grab Donna’s coat off the floor, shaking it out. A wave of her gentle perfume hits me and I pull the jacket up to my nose, inhaling deeply. I shake my head a moment later, feeling ridiculous, and drape it over the arm of the couch, her cell phone falling out of the pocket and landing on the rug with hardly a sound. I pick it up, checking for damage, and grab her scarf a while I’m at it, putting it on top of her coat. I pick her bag off the floor and plop it on the chair. I look at all of the junk I dropped on the floor a few hours ago when I got home, but doing anything with it would mean waking Donna, and I’d rather let her sleep.

I move toward the kitchen, wincing as I kick something and it goes skittering across the floor—more because of the noise it makes than because it hurt. I pause for a few moments, holding my breath as I wait to see if the noise woke Donna. Everything is quiet. I let out a relieved sigh and move into the kitchen, my foot catching on something again. I chuckle a little as I realize it’s her watch. I scoop it off the floor, examining it in the light of the refrigerator as I open the door, grabbing a Red Bull. I crack it open as quietly as possible, chugging it as I stare at her watch, just as fascinated with this piece of her lying about as her pile of jewelry. I crumple the empty can and toss it on the counter and grab another before I trek back to the living room. I put her phone and watch on the table, feeling a little amused that in the short time she was in the area earlier, she managed to get her stuff everywhere. 

I sigh, shaking my head. I must still be post-coital. I’m getting way too sappy about how her jewelry and accessories look here. I open the second Red Bull and take a long drink; it’s more of a habit at this point than thinking it’s actually doing any good. I’m long-since immune to its effects, but I keep hoping. Plus, after you’ve had case of it the space of three days, it almost tastes palatable. 

I shake my head again—vigorously this time—and put down the can, parking myself in a chair at the table. I need to focus on the transition and not the woman lying in my bed just a few yards down the hall. I open up a couple of files on the laptop, flip open a notepad and start to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all she wrote. Hope you all enjoyed my interpretation of this particular evening. If I’d been willing to put in a little more effort, I might have been able to split this one up, too, but oh well. The less coitus interuptus, the better, am I right? For those playing the home game, the stories I wrote side by side are both monstrous—closing in on 10,000 words each—so I’m thinking they’ll have to be broken up a bit, too. I realize this is a first world problem, but it’s plaguing me. Anyway, again, hope you found this entertaining. Feel free to shoot me a message if you want to ramble on endlessly about our love for fictional characters.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, first of all, this sucker has no natural breaks. Maybe a few, but not at any length worth reading. So, this will probably be in three parts, because 13,000 words at one time seems like a bit much.
> 
> This basically came about because someone mentioned at some point that they wondered what happened this night. My brain percolated long enough, and this is what I crapped out. You’re welcome. 
> 
> I’ve got some more stuff to type up, an idea for a fic that I’m totally ripping off of another fic, but I’ll credit that in the story, I started writing dialogue for another story on Post-Its today, and I think I have the beginnings of something really cool, but that one’ll take a while. Keep your fingers crossed, send positive writing vibes, all that jazz. 
> 
> And, one more thing, lamest story title EVER. But I tentatively named it as such and haven’t been able to think of anything else.


End file.
